Buried (DC Jack Warr #1) - Lynda La Plante Page 0,97
seemed to be a dab hand at remaining incognito.
As Jack trawled through old files and new databases, he came across numerous names who could have helped if they hadn’t been dead. So much time had passed. At this rate, he was going to have to convince Ridley to dig up Harry’s second grave.
After an hour of searching, Jack settled on the name of DS Alex Fuller, mainly because he was one of only a handful of people from the eighties who was still breathing. Fuller had been Resnick’s right-hand man and, at times, his biggest critic. One report from Fuller caught Jack’s eye. In it, he expressed concern to the then superintendent about Resnick’s emotional stability and requested a transfer out of Resnick’s team. Fuller’s report showed him to be an honest, ambitious man who didn’t want his own career to be hindered or tainted by the unfounded obsessions of his boss. Jack felt an immediate affinity. Right now, he, too, thought his boss was on the wrong track. He called Fuller.
*
Alex Fuller was a stout man in his mid-60s. He had been handsome in his day and the years had been kind to him. He had a full head of white hair and he carried his once muscular physique well. He’d still be a handful if he ever got into a brawl.
‘It’s good of you to see me, Mr Fuller,’ said Jack.
‘Alex. And I’m happy to help.’ Fuller didn’t ask what Jack would like to drink, he just got on with making a pot of tea for them both. ‘Fire away, son. I’m listening.’
‘I’m interested in Harry Rawlins.’
Fuller let out a belly laugh. ‘Fuck me, that name never goes away, does it? What’s he done now? Risen from the grave and robbed a bank? He’s not the missing man on the Hatton Garden job, is he?’
‘I read your case files today. Rawlins was certainly notorious.’
‘That’s one word for him. So, you think he’s connected somehow to a new case?’
‘We’re exploring a variety of avenues.’
Fuller grinned at Jack’s use of such a stock phrase when talking to an ex-copper. He must be new to this.
‘You wrote about an occasion in 1984, when you raided the home of Trudie Nunn. She was hysterical apparently, screaming, “He’s gone, he’s gone!” At the time, you assumed she was talking about Jimmy Nunn.’
Fuller bowed his head as he recalled the moment.
‘The only assumption that ever mattered was that Harry Rawlins died in the explosion in the Strand underpass. From that moment on, it was all smoke and mirrors and the only person who knew it for a fact was George Resnick. I remember the raid on Trudie Nunn’s flat . . . So you think the “he” she was talking about was Harry Rawlins? I think you’re right.’
Jack told Fuller about the exhumation, and how one of the few remaining teeth from the jigsaw puzzle skeleton was currently being tested against Jimmy Nunn’s dental records. Fuller nodded, as if that all made sense.
‘Look – for most of his career, Resnick taught me nothing at all about the art of being a copper. He was a cantankerous old prick, resentful and fucking hard to like, meaning no one wanted to work for him. But he was an exceptional policeman. He had commendations coming out of his ears, he’d put more bad’uns away than anyone I’ve ever worked with and his gut instinct was to die for. It was only when the force couldn’t keep up with him that things went off track. Unfortunately, that’s when I knew him. I wish I’d known him when he was younger.’ Fuller looked directly at Jack. ‘You’re standing there with the same look in your eyes as Resnick back in the day. Like you’re about to ask me to believe in something, based on nothing more than gut instinct. I let him down on that score so many times and that weighs heavy. So, ask what you came to ask.’
‘I need to find a close relative of Harry Rawlins to check his DNA for a familial match.’
‘The only one I can think of is his cousin, Eddie, but I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.’
Fuller handed Jack a mug of tea, and he took it gratefully. He was exhausted and let his mind wander as Fuller rambled on about villains in the old days. But when Fuller mentioned Dolly Rawlins, he was all attention.
‘She was a stony-faced old cow. At least, that’s the face she showed everyone. She was afforded